


The Catalyst

by mmmdraco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Flash Fic, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not trustworthy." Derek still didn't move away from Stiles' touch.</p><p>"That's not exactly something you get to decide." Stiles smiled broadly. "I put my trust in you, and I found you worthy."</p><p>Snorting, Derek finally reached up to touch his fingertips against the back of the hand on his shoulder. "For a moment, I was worried you were going to quote Linkin Park."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> I just found a rough version of this on my phone that I barely remember writing, so I cleaned it up a little. I'm pretty sure the idea hit while listening to the local alternative rock music station in the car while musing on Sterek. XD Named after a random Linkin Park song because why not? Most of their song titles kind of fit Sterek anyway.

Stiles slammed a fist down on the kitchen table between him and Derek, glaring at the other man. "Would you just, for once, give in to your self-preservation instinct? Just a little?"

Huffing, Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't see why I should. There are things that need to be done sometimes. I can heal."

"And, yet, you still lost a lot of blood. Dude, people do actually want you to be healthy and happy. You know that, right?" Stiles pressed forward, still keeping up the glare.

"I could care less," Derek said with a glare of his own, sitting back in his chair.

Stiles paused, scooting forward in his own seat. "You could? Or you couldn't?" He watched Derek's expression change, his jaw suddenly tense. "Right. You could. But, you're too busy beating yourself up over imagined faults in your past. Get over it. You're allowed to want things, you know." He let his hand raise, reaching over until he could settle it against Derek's shoulder. "Maybe... maybe sometimes other people even want the same things you do."

Letting out a mirthless laugh, Derek leaned into Stiles' touch almost imperceptibly. "People can be wrong about the things they think they want."

Shrugging, Stiles just let his hand rest heavier against Derek. "People should also be allowed to try things out if they want, potential consequences be damned. Things might end badly, but that's one of those things you have to learn for yourself. If it involves other people, sometimes you're just forced to learn where to trust."

"I'm not trustworthy." Derek still didn't move away from Stiles' touch.

"That's not exactly something you get to decide." Stiles smiled broadly. "I put my trust in you, and I found you worthy."

Snorting, Derek finally reached up to touch her fingertips against the back of the hand on his shoulder. "For a moment, I was worried you were going to quote Linkin Park."

Stiles had the decency to groan. "There are things I am willing to do in the name of a joke. Linkin Park lyrics inserted into a serious conversation about your worth didn't exactly make the list."

"If there's anyone I trust... it's you." Derek's words came out stilted and unsure.

"Good. I wish there was a longer list, but I understand that your trust has been broken by enough people that it probably takes a lot to make it onto that list. I'm glad I've done enough to get penciled in." Stiles' thumb rubbed against the juncture of Derek's neck and shoulder, hand flexing under Derek's fingers.

Letting his hand cover Stiles', Derek smiled softly. "It's more like a plaque you're engraved on."

Stiles smirked, his cheekbones suddenly sharp-looking as he leaned in closer to Derek, no longer really seated. "I'm employee of the month, then. I look forward to the good parking spot and possibly a gift card to a local restaurant of your choosing."

"I'll buy you a muffin and a cup of hot chocolate if you shut up," Derek groused.

There was a moment of silence. "If I'm employee of the month, and you're the one choosing it, does that make you my boss? Because I feel that a coffee date isn't exactly conducive to keeping up a professional relationship."

"It's not a coffee date, Stiles!" Derek pulled Stiles' hand down, but didn't quite let go of it.

Turning his palm upward so their fingers linked together, Stiles laughed. "But, you didn't say it wasn't a date, either."

"You're infuriating." Derek squeezed Stiles' fingers between his own, using his other hand to reach up to massage the bridge of his nose.

"Also trustworthy. C'mon, dude. Let's get muffin-ing before there's only bran left." Stiles shrugged at the look Derek gave him. "What? I know these things."

Derek laughed in reply, the sound loud to his own ears as it echoed in the loft. "More worried about moral fiber?"

"Fortunately, there's not a recommended daily allowance for that." Stiles winked. "I just know how bran muffins taste and it's a bit like wet shredded cardboard. I'm sure that's better food than some things some people have eaten, but I'd just rather not. It tastes enough like it I feel like I might get a paper cut on my uvula, and the very thought is enough to keep me away. Give me something with fruit or chocolate and covered in streusel instead."

"I've seen bran muffins at your house before, though." Derek chose not to look down at their joined hands, even as their fingers stroked against one another. 

Stiles bit his lip briefly. "Duh, for my dad. The man never met a vegetable he didn't want to put in lock-up, and once tried to tell me that steak provided plenty of fiber. If the occasional muffin is how I help make him toe the line, so be it."

"About that, I think I actually couldn't care less." Derek stood up, finally letting go of Stiles' hand. "Shall we go before you get into some nonsense topic that'll keep us here for another twenty minutes?"

Stiles reached out to grip Derek's hand again, pulling the other man closer even as he headed toward the door. "How about you just assume I'm going to keep talking annoying digestive health stuff and tune me out for a bit?"

"Yeah, okay." Derek focused on leading them out of the loft in a steady rhythm that matched the cadence of Stiles' voice, doing his best to ignore the repetition of the word "bowels". The warm touch of Stiles hand did, at least, make it a little easier.


End file.
